


Cake

by adroite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dancing, F/F, First Kiss, Graduation, Hogwarts Eighth Year, One Shot, Weddings, just for Hermione, non-epilogue compliant, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adroite/pseuds/adroite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Salt and seawater, lust and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cake

Boys, boys, boys.

 

It had always been about boys. Six brothers, one father, one overzealous mother. It took awhile for Ginny to grasp her femininity, to fully realize that it was hers and nobody else’s. Even then, it was about boys. Michael Corner, who made her feel pretty but whom she grew out of quickly, like with all her skirts and dresses during her growth sprouts third and fourth year. Dean Thomas, who was fun and kind-hearted, but who turned out to be utterly in love with another (Ginny needed not ask who). And Harry Potter, always Harry Potter. Her affection for him came in dangerous waves. It swept over her at times but slowly receded like the tide each time as she realized that loving Harry meant sharing, and even with six brothers, Ginny had never particularly liked sharing.

 

It had always been about boys until suddenly, it wasn’t.

 

Seventh year, it came to be about studying in empty pockets of the library surrounded by her own warmth. It came to be about sitting alone at breakfast, chatting idly at lunch and often skipping dinner altogether, as she was too engrossed in studying and Quidditch practice. It came to be about Hermione, one of the only students from Harry’s year who had come back to Hogwarts to finish their studies. A new friendship emerged from the ashes of bridges Hermione had burned by returning to school: her parents, Ron, a life in the Muggle world.

 

It came to be about savoring the little moments. When spring arrived, Ginny was up to her eyeballs in distractions, and it was relaxing to head down to the lake with some of the other Gryffindor girls and sit on the steep shore, chatting and tossing stones. She and Hermione sat slightly closer each time, until eventually their hips kissed every Sunday afternoon, and Ginny started to feel something blooming in her chest. It reminded her of Michael and Dean and Harry, only far more beautiful and far more fragile.

 

When she wasn’t at practice or holed up somewhere studying, Ginny was now busy noticing. Seven years of knowing the girl, and she had never once noticed that Hermione was ambidextrous. Her notes were half-neat and half-smudged, telling with a glance which parts had been written with Hermione’s left hand and which with her right. She also had a small mole just under her left-hand eye that was easy to lose in her dark skin. There were, of course, features of Hermione’s that were not new to Ginny, but that she was now seeing in an entirely different light. The small gap between her teeth and the large mass of deep brown curls, the subtle curves of her womanly figure that she hid beneath layers of black robes. 

 

There were no signals between them, no signs of mutual attraction, but Ginny still felt that there was a sinister clock ticking, counting down the time she had left before she had to confess. When they both graduated, she felt that there was so much she had left to say, but for then, they were parting ways. With a chaste kiss on the cheek and a promise to owl her, Ginny left Hermione without so much as an indication of the romantic feelings that had been building up inside of her for the past year.

 

. . .

 

The next time they saw each other was at a wedding.

 

A few months before, Ginny had received the prettily-inked invitation to the union of Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott. According to the owl she’d received less than a week later, so had Hermione. They had been communicating steadily since leaving Hogwarts; Ginny training to audition for the Holyhead Harpies, Hermione continuing her studies as a Hogwarts professor-in-training. She had also, since they had last seen each other, reunited with her parents and finally silenced Ron’s subtle advances. She hadn’t provided Ginny with the details of the latter, and her brother was as unwilling as ever to talk about his love life with her, but she didn’t pry. It wasn’t in her nature.

 

She should have been more prepared for her breath to be taken away when she saw Hermione again. Her hair seemed to have been cut much shorter, but it was pulled back in a careful bun. Springy little pieces still escaped here and there, framing her face with accidental elegance. Her soft, pink, lacy boatneck dress vaguely reminded Ginny of the blue one she had worn to the Yule Ball, but this one flared out slightly and touched the floor. If she had not known better, Ginny might have guessed that it was Hermione who would be getting married today.

 

They had both been granted a plus one, but neither had taken advantage of it, and the two girls found each other like magnets in the small crowd of friendly-looking witches and wizards. They hugged briefly and Hermione complimented the subdued jewel blue of Ginny’s dress, saying that it brought out her eyes marvelously. Ginny thanked her, rushing through the formalities so that she could get to the cake of the conversation: light gossip and things they’d both omitted from their letters over the past few months. Their chatter was cut short by the starting of the ceremony, but roared back up again more joyously than before during the long reception.

 

Heels were dropped by tables, Hermione’s dress hem was hoisted up at her knees with a short  _ levioso _ , and the two girls danced like all the other couples there, each one laughing with more mirth than the other. The non-dancers, the Rons and the Parvatis, sat at their tables and clapped the dancers on.

 

Towards the end of the evening, Hermione and Ginny were giddy on the wedding spirit and had tossed back a few drinks. Afraid to embarrass herself in front of old school friends and the small number of her brothers that had attended, Ginny pinched her heels by the straps and told Hermione to apparate them both to somewhere more secluded. About 20 metres from where the reception was being held, a small, unassuming white gazebo stood in solitude. It was adorned with fairy lights, presumably for a previous occasion, but they were unlit until Hermione said, in a lilting whisper, “ _ Lumos _ .”

 

Hips touching intimately, the two sat down on the white, paint-chipped little bench that was placed on one side of the gazebo. Ginny let her heels hit the wooden floor with a  _ thud _ , and Hermione realized that she had left hers in the reception hall. “We can go back for them,” Ginny assured her, suddenly desperate to keep Hermione at her side for as long as possible. She had been almost certain that the feelings from her seventh year had washed away by now, but they were only coming back with more force than before. Her head was filled with salt and seawater, lust and love, tears and confused happiness. Hermione sat back down when Ginny urged her to, reaching back and letting her curls fall loose and spill over her shoulders like Ginny was used to. It was a bit shorter than when she had seen it last, but it still framed her face beautifully. Without thinking, Ginny said, “You’re gorgeous.” They complimented each other often, as girls tend to do, but this had a different kind of tone. The weight of her voice was chasing something, yearning for a response other than the habitual “Thank you!”

 

Hermione had heard it too and stared back at her curiously. “Thanks,” she said a bit hesitantly. The next bit was half-rushed, half-blurred by the circle of lights surrounding them, but Hermione noticed the way Ginny’s vibrant eyes lingered on her lips, and before she knew it, she was leaning into a hurried kiss. Despite its urgency, it was soft and almost angelic. 

  
Boys, boys, boys. Ginny had kissed boys before, but this was entirely new to her. It was calm, and tasted like vanilla wedding cake. The tension between her thin, pale shoulders unwound slowly, and she leaned into Hermione, kissing her until she was all out of breath.

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not write a sequel for this. feedback would be much appreciated. thanks for reading!


End file.
